


How to Save a Life

by balancingprecariouslyontheedge



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Multi, but im quite fond of it, idk one of my older fics, it's sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:19:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3097955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balancingprecariouslyontheedge/pseuds/balancingprecariouslyontheedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*previously on tumblr*</p><p>The one where Zayn's a beacon of hope disguised that guides four boys from the edge and the one time he need a beacon too.</p><p>*trigger warning inside*</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Save a Life

**Author's Note:**

> **Trigger warning** Okay so this does deal with various topics revolving around suicide, and so if may trigger you, don't feel bad about not reading it:-)
> 
> I transferred this from my tumblr and the dedications were to my darling friends zayn-centric-duh, my-zaynie-boo, mindsrelateandcreate, bigsweatersandcuddleweather, and an extra special one to my dear Sharon (librarypictured) <3 
> 
> Enjoy xxx

When Zayn was seven years old, his grandfather died and his entire family was devastated.

He hadn’t honestly under stood the concept of death until his parents had sat him down and explained it to him. It had been a rather teary conversation, and at one point, Doniya had come and taken him to the park to let his parents mourn in peace.

Both his parent were constantly busy, with little Waliyha toddling around and Saffa on the way. But that one night, his parents had cried and Zayn had never ever seen his parents cry. Well, maybe his mum, but his dad had never cried. And for the next few days, his parents were sad, and everything they did seemed a bit slow and unenthusiastic.

Zayn had instantly decided that he didn’t like it when people were unhappy. This sentiment had stayed with him all through his childhood, and whenever people were sad or unhappy, he would always try his very best to make them feel better.

That’s why Zayn decided to help with the suicide hotline at his school for twelfth year. He knew it was a huge responsibility, but he wanted to help people, and this seemed like a good place to start.

 

1.

The first time Zayn got a call was during dinner. He’d been half-heartedly trying to finish his maths homework, tapping his pencil on the paper. Music was blaring through his speakers, and he bobbed his head to the beat while scratching out something from his paper. He had left his phone downstairs because he was sure no one would call him.  
It wasn’t that Zayn was bullied or anything, but at school, he was a bit of a loner. Not many people talked to him, and he honestly preferred it that way. He wasn’t about to waste his precious words on imbeciles who wouldn’t have a clue as to what he was saying.  
Sighing heavily, Zayn feel back on his bed and watching the ceiling fan spin in lazy circles. His eyelids droop slightly, but before they can close completely, his mum’s shout rings out through the house.  
"Zayn, dinner!" Groaning, Zayn pulled himself off his bed and shuffled down the stairs. His sisters and dad were already seated around the table, with his mum dishing out steaming hot, spicy chicken with naan bread.  
"Hurry up, jaan. Eat your khana while it’s hot." His mum told him. Zayn obliged, plopping down into a chair and eying the food hungrily. The second his mum put some in his plate, he dove in, scarfing down half his meal within two minutes. His dad laughed heartily.  
"Stomach after my own, hm?" Zayn blushed and slowed down slightly.  
"Zayn’s gonna get fat." Waliyha snarked, and he glared at his younger sister.  
"Shut up, Wali." He retorted, and his mum eyed them both disapprovingly.  
"No arguing at the table," she chided, and they both huffed while Saffa giggled.  
"Zaynie only does that with chicken." She declared, and a small grin broke out on Zayn’s face at the adorableness of his youngest sister.  
The next few minutes went fairly the same, with banter and chatter. Zayn had been half way through a heated discussion with his father about football, until his mum asked him to get her more water. He obliged, and as he went to wipe the food off his hands, his phone rang from it’s spot in the counter. Curious as to who would call him at all, Zayn grabbed his phone and checked the caller ID. It was an unknown number, but it was from this town. A spark of nervousness popped up in his stomach as he realized someone possibly wasn’t calling him, they were calling one of the school’s suicide hotline numbers.  
"Shit," Zayn swore, and he quickly grabbed his phone, ignoring the nerves that were building up inside of him. He tapped the green button and brought the phone to his ear.  
"H..h..hello?" The voice on the other end stuttered, and this was bad, Zayn thought, because the person was sniffling and crying. You’ve got a chance to help someone, he told himself firmly, don’t blow this.  
"Hi, I’m Zayn." He started, with much more confidence then he felt. His mother walked in, and looked as if she were about to scold him for taking a phone call during dinner. Zayn shook his head, pointed to his phone, and dragged a finger across his throat. Realization dawned on her face, and a proud smile appeared on her face. She quietly exited the room. Zayn brought his attention back to his phone, and heard loud, wet sobs that had his heart aching.  
"Would you mind telling me your name?" He asked, trying hard to dig out what he’d rehearsed for his first call from the depths of his memories.  
"H-Harry." The other lad stuttered, a loud sob escaping his throat. Zayn inhaled deeply, giving up on remembering and deciding to just try and make sure the Harry person didn’t die.  
"Alright, Harry. I want you to take a deep breath, okay? Can you do that?" He coached gently. He heard Harry do as he asked.  
"Good lad. Now, could you please tell me if you think you’re—" Harry cut him off.  
"I—I’ve got knife i-in my h-hand." He said brokenly, and double shit, Zayn though frantically, this was really bad. He shook his head and concentrated, and then he realized Harry was sobbing.  
"Put the knife down, yeah? Just leave it right next to you. Don’t do anything yet, alright? Please?" Zayn was careful not to sound demanding, just caring.  
"I did." Harry whispered after a second, clearly still in tears.  
"Would you mind telling me why you’re crying?" Zayn asked, keeping his voice kind and trying not to sound pitying at the same time.  
"I just want it all to end!" Harry cried out, choking back another sob.  
"What exactly do you want to end, if you don’t mind my asking?" Zayn asked slowly, knowing that this was a dangerous situation. The other lad sniffled.  
"My life. There’s just so much pressure, and my parents expect me to be exactly like my older sister, who’s bloody perfect! And my friends, I’m not even sure if I call them that, they call me a slut and a manwhore as a joke, and I try to laugh it off but it hurts! People only want to hang out with me for a good time, and I’ve got no real friends and everyone hates me secretly and I just want it all to end." Harry sniffled again.  
"I haven’t even told any if them I’m gay. Their all going to hate me." Zayn felt strangely privileged to be the first person this lad came out to, but he shoved that aside.  
"I’m gay, too." He said, not quite sure why he was telling the Harry this, but somehow knowing this was the right thing to say. The other lad hiccupped.  
"R..really?" The person stammered incredulously. Zayn nodded, before remembering the person couldn’t see him.  
"Yeah. And would you like to know something else?"  
"S…sure?"  
"I think you’re a great person. And—" The Harry cut him off.  
"But I’m not!" He cried. "No one likes me and—" Zayn really wanted to get a word in.  
"Just hear me out, yeah?" He said soothingly, and Harry was silent. His shaky breathing was the only thing that told Zayn he was still alive.  
"You want to please all these people, which makes you a better person than the lot of them. Because you care. But you don’t have to care about what they think of you. If anyone thinks poorly of you, they’re assholes." Harry chuckled wetly, and Zayn counted this as a win.  
"I… I don’t want to keep hiding the fact that I’m gay, but… but what if…. what if people hate me for it?" Harry asked miserably.  
"What if they don’t hate you for it?" Zayn countered, and Harry was silent for a few beats.  
"How ‘bout I come with you when you tell everyone, yeah?" Zayn inquired, feeling stupid for saying it but not exactly regretting it.  
"You haven’t told anyone either?" Harry asked, just now realizing that this was a possibility.  
"Got nobody to tell. ‘Cept my family, and they don’t care. And neither will yours." Zayn hoped that Harry hasn’t picked up on the slight bitterness mixed with sorrow when he said he had no one to come out to. The other boy pondered on his words for a bit, and Zayn was grateful that his crying had slowed somewhat.  
"I can’t promise that everyone will be fine with it, but I can say that there will always be someone who is. Somebody will always care for you, Harry, even if you don’t know it." He added quickly.  
"A-alright." Harry mumbled, but then he spoke again, stronger.  
"Alright. I’ll come out, and even if everyone hates me for it—"  
"Which most of them won’t." Zayn butt in.  
”..I’ll still have you, right?” Zayn wondered how his first distress call had suddenly got him a friend who he’d never even met before, but something in Harry’s tone had him speaking without thinking.  
“‘Course. Now can I ask you a question?” Zayn asked, and Harry actually giggled, which was a very good thing.  
"Do you still want to do what you were going to do before you made this call?" He was scared that this might send Harry into relapse, but Harry didn’t do anything drastic. He thought for a second before responding.  
"I don’t think so. No, I don’t." And Zayn almost cried with relief because he’d done it. He’d actually helped someone and prevented them from commuting suicide. The fact bounced around his head like a rubber ball and it left him slightly dizzy and filled with relief and happiness, which tugged huge grin to split across his face.  
"Good. More than good, brilliant." He said, tone much calmer than he felt.  
"Why don’t we meet up in the parking lot tomorrow, hm?" Zayn was afraid that he’d sounded a bit too pushy because he’d honestly never had a proper friend before. But Harry sounded happy when he spoke.  
"Okay, sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?"  
"Yeah, see you then." Zayn made a move to hang up, but then Harry spoke once again.  
"Zayn?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I.. um… I… I just… Thank you." He settled on, and Zayn grinned even more.  
"Anytime, Harry."  
The second the line clicked on the other end, Zayn gingerly placed his phone on the counter, not quite processing what had just happened. The breath he didn’t know he’d been holding left his lungs in a rush with an audible whoosh.  
Harry. Zayn thought for a minute, until it clicked. Harry Styles. One of the most popular kids in school. He didn’t play on the football team, but he had a reputation of snogging practically every bird in their year. Somehow, Zayn highly doubted that was true.  
He unsteadily shuffled up the stairs and collapsed face first on his bed. He’d done it. Zayn Malik had saved a life.

That was probably the scariest, most nerve-wracking thing he’s ever done in his life.

 

2.

The second time Zayn gets a call, he’s at Harry’s house, ironically enough.  
He had waited in the parking lot the morning after Harry called, and the other lad had actually shown up. Harry had been rather nervous, but as promised, he had announced he was gay and Zayn stuck by him the entire time. But no one really knew who he was, so nothing had really changed for him. Not many people honestly gave a shit that Harry swung for a different team, which alleviated many of his worries. There were a few people who were disgusted, but Harry’s friends took care of them right quick,  
After school, Zayn was absolutely sure Harry would ditch him, which was fine. He hadn’t even expected for him to keep him around for this long. Surprisingly enough, a familiar voice shouted his name across the hall.  
"Zayn! Wait up!" Zayn swiveled around to see Harry jogging up to him.  
"Hey, do you wanna hang out at my place?" The curly haired boy seemed a bit nervous, but Zayn’s mind was spinning. Harry actually wanted him to come over, and possibly spend the night? This had definitely not been how he’d planned his first call to go.  
"S-sure. Just let me text my mum." Harry nodded and Zayn shot off a text to his mum, imagining her surprise at him finally making a proper friend.  
Zayn had found Harry to be a rather amiable lad. Aside from the phone call, he was quite laid back and relaxed, and his words were slow and drawn out. He also had this endearingly corny sense of humor, which had Zayn laughing anyway.  
And on top of all that, Harry’s mum and step dad had taken a special liking to him. Zayn had his manners ingrained in him since he was born, and that seemed to pleasantly surprise Harry’s parents. Considering the crowd Harry normally hung around, that didn’t come as a shock to Zayn either.

But there were these feelings, these annoying feelings that grew whenever he got close to Harry, and had him throwing caution out the window. Zayn had never fallen in love before, and he highly doubted this was anything more than a stupid crush on the first boy at school who actually acknowledged his existence. Besides all that, Harry kept informing him about his ridiculous schoolgirl crush on the football captain, Louis Tomlinson.

Going to Harry’s house and vice versa after school became a regular thing, and Zayn thoroughly enjoyed it. He hadn’t gotten any other calls so far, but his gut kept pestering him, saying that something might happen soon.

They were sprawled over Harry’s bed, doing homework while contemplating the best way for Harry to get closer to Louis Tomlinson without seeming pushy.

“I think that flowers are a bit much right now. The lad doesn’t even know you.” Zayn said, resting his head on his English textbook. Harry pinched his foot.

“Thanks for reminding me, you wanker. But are you sure? Because what if we’re about to get married and he doesn’t say I do ‘cause I didn’t get him flowers in senior year. I’ve heard he remembers small shit like that.” Zayn rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Harry. I’m absolutely sure that you shouldn’t get him flowers just yet. Pass me your English notes.”

“Then what do I do?” Harry groaned, throwing a notebook at his head. Zayn scanned through the note and sighed.

“’Dulcet is an adjective meaning melodious, or pleasant sounding. Example: Harry Tomlinson.’” Harry turned beat red and snatched the notebook back. He was about to send back a sarcastic reply when Zayn’s cellphone rang.

“’s probably my mum. She wanted to me to pick up Waliyha from dance, and she thinks I’ll forget.” Zayn muttered as grabbed his phone.

"Hello?" He mumbled, and the voice that answers is definitely not his mother.  
"I miss her so much!" The person sobs, and shit, this had to happen now of all times?!  
"Alright, just take a deep breath. Now, can you tell me your name?" He asked in a kind, gentle tone that hopefully didn’t sound pitying.  
'Who is it?' Harry mouthes a bit nervously. Zayn put a finger to his lips and Harry's face went pale.  
"L-liam." Zayn brought his attention back to the caller.  
"Okay, Liam. Who did you say you missed?" He hoped that came out properly, because otherwise bad things would happen. Liam let out a choked sob.  
"D-d-d-Danielle. My beautiful, breath taking Dani…" He whispered brokenly, dissolving into another bout of tears. His girlfriend, Zayn thought frantically. Was she dead? Did she dump him? Did she move?  
"Liam," he started slowly. "I want you to be honest with me. Do you think you’re about to do something you might regret?" Liam sniffled.  
"I’m sitting at the edge of the bridge that I used to take to for dates. But if I fell, I don’t think I’d regret it. I’d see Danielle again." So she was dead. Zayn mumbled a few choice words under his breath, feeling slightly panicked. He was starting to doubt that a simple phone call was going to help Liam. Shaking his head, Zayn realized the other lad was still talking.  
"…and we would always go for walks in the park. Each time I’d set up a little picnic on the bridge and she’d call me a hopelessly cheesy romantic. But she’d love it and we’d sit there for hours…" Alright, Zayn thought, the bridge was in a park. Which park in Bradford had a fucking bridge?! The answer suddenly seemed to blatantly obvious Zayn felt stupid. There was this one small park on the other side of town. It was small and quaint, with benches everywhere. The smell of roses and daisies mingled together and wafted through the cool air. And there was a lake with streams breaking free everywhere. It seemed like the perfect place for couples. But there was also this one part of the lake that was extremely deep, with sharp, jagged rocks protruding from the water. A bridge went over it, but if someone decided to jump off the bridge… Zayn gulped at the prospect.  
"….and when I got the call that she was dead, my whole world fell apart. I loved her with everything I had and more. I’ve never even had a girlfriend before her…" Liam’s voice sounded so pained and hurt that Zayn wanted nothing more than to give him a hug. Holding the phone to his ear and listening to Liam talk sadly about his dates in the park, he stood up and motioned for Harry to follow. The other boy looked apprehensive, but he quickly followed. Once they were downstairs, Zayn grabbed his keys and tossed them to Harry, who caught them with ease.  
"Zayn?" Liam addressed him so suddenly Zayn jumped slightly.  
"I’m here Liam." He responded.  
"I think… I think I’m gonna jump." Shit, shitshitshitshitshit this was getting out if hand.  
"Liam, I’m coming, please don’t do anything! Please, just think. Do you think this is what Danielle would’ve wanted?" That only seemed to get Liam angry.  
"How would you know what she wanted?! You’ve never met her! And how am I supposed to know what she wants? She’s dead." The pent up frustration tumbled out of Liam’s mouth, taking his anger with it. He let out a broken whimper.  
"She’s dead." He whispered, and Zayn could practically hear the tears streaming down his face. By this time, Harry and he had gotten into Harry’s car. Zayn quietly told him where to drive, and to fucking step on it. Harry obliged, because he was terrified. He was watching Zayn in his element, which was basically the difference between someone’s life or death.  
"You know what? You’re right. I didn’t know Danielle. But you did. Tell me about her." Liam seemed slightly taken aback, but after mulling over it for a few seconds, stuttered out a response.  
"O-o-okay?" It sounded like more of a question than anything else, but Zayn’s silence prompted Liam to keep going.  
"She… she was the most beautiful girl in the whole world. Her hair was brown, and it was curly and I’d always run my hands through it and get stuck. Her eyes were…. amazing. They were always sparkling and filled with light. I could sit down and talk for days, trying to describe her eyes. She always said I was endearingly clumsy when it came to words, but…" Listening to the way Liam talked about Danielle, Zayn finally understood what love was. He’d always known it existed, but he’s never witnessed it first hand. His words were coated with love and adoration, like he practically worshipped her. Zayn wondered if he’d ever find something as beautiful as that.  
"…and her laugh… it was the most brilliant sounds I’ve ever heard. Even when," Liam paused for a second, and Zayn could tell he was holding back sobs.  
"Even when the doctor told her she had cancer, even when he basically told her she was going to die, she forced a laugh, and said her life was turning into some shitty, cliche movie. That night we sat on the couch and watched Toy Story, and I could tell she wanted to cry. But Danielle wouldn’t, she tried to stay strong… for me. I promised her I’d always love her, and that she didn’t have to try to be strong for me. And then she died and I can’t try and be strong and I’ve got no one who understands." By this time, the two boys were about five minutes away from the park and Zayn realized he was running out of time.  
"I’m not even going to try and pretend to understand what you’re going through. But two years ago, my grandfather died, and he was the only person I could go to when something was wrong. He understood me, and suddenly, he was gone." Liam sniffed.  
"What did you do?" He asked hesitantly.  
"At first, I didn’t really know what to do. I was lost, and I didn’t think I had anyone to go to. But then I realized, I’ve got my mum, my dad, my three sisters, all of my family. There are always people who will at least try to understand, Liam. Your mum, your dad, any siblings. And—"Liam cut him off.  
"But they don’t! They never have and they never will understand what I had with Dani. My parents always thought I was too young to be tied down with a relationship. They won’t even try to understand! The only person who ever did is dead. And I want to be with her." Liam was crying again and fuck this was turning really bad really fast. Harry pulled in the parking lot, and Zayn hissed a quick ‘stay here.’ Then he shot out of the car, leaving Harry staring at the now-empty passenger seat with his mouth open.  
To say Zayn ran fast was a huge underestimate. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he forced his legs to move past their limits. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he realized that it was pouring rain, but that hardly stopped him.  
"Hold on, Liam. Please. I promise, no I swear I’m coming. Please!" Zayn panted into his phone, trying to keep his voice steady. But he couldn’t help the desperation trickling into his voice. He idly wondered if this was even in the job description, but crushed the thoughts immediately because he could make the difference between Liam’s life and death. Even though he’d never even fucking met him before. Zayn told his mind to shut up, and he focused on the fact that he could still hear Liam’s faint, shaky breathing through his exhaustion and the pouring rain. That meant he was still alive.  
"Hold on, Liam." Zayn pleaded, and with a final push, he could see the bridge getting nearer and nearer. A small roof covered it, which meant at least Liam was still somewhat dry.  
Zayn skidded to a stop at the foot of the bridge, because Liam was sitting on the railing, feet dangling over the treacherous water. His grip on the rail was slowly loosening, but he still held his own phone to his ear.  
"Liam!" Zayn shouted, trying to be heard over the torrential rain. The other boy’s head whipped around. Slowly, Zayn shut his phone and took a tentative step forward. Liam leaned forward slightly, and Zayn backtracked.  
"Liam. Would you describe Danielle as caring?" He asked slowly. Liam nodded his head fervently.  
"She cared about everyone. And she was a huge animal rights supporter. She always fed the pigeons when we’d go out. Dani believed everyone deserved a second chance.  
"Including you." Zayn butt in. Liam knit his eyebrows.  
"What?" He asked.  
"You said Danielle believed everyone deserves a second chance. That includes you, Liam."  
"I don’t—" At this point, Zayn just had to get his point across. He was getting soaked, but didn’t step on the bridge in fear of Liam being startled and just falling off.  
"From what you’ve told me, I know Danielle must’ve cared for you a lot, just like you cared for her. If she thought everyone deserves a second chance, she means you too. You deserve a chance to move on, to find love again." Liam looked like he wanted to say something, but Zayn kept going.  
"Danielle would’ve said the same thing I’m telling you now. Don’t forget about her, and by all means, never stop loving her. But you’ve got a whole life ahead of you, and I know you’re going to do brilliant things. Danielle knew that too. I’m sure she wasn’t selfish, and she would’ve wanted you to go on and live your life to the fullest. I think that you should make the decision of whether you let got of that railing or not, but just know, Danielle would’ve wanted the world to see your true potential." Zayn had no idea where any of those words came from, but they just felt right. Liam pondered on his little speech for a minute, before he took a long, shuddering breath.  
"Alright." Before Zayn could process that one word, Liam had swung his legs over the railing and planted both feet firmly on the ground. Zayn just stood there, arms hanging limply by his side as the ever present rain soaked him to the bone.  
"You alright, mate?" He inquired slowly walking until he was safely under the roof of the bridge.  
"Not really sure." Liam confessed. "But, um, can I get a ride home?" And Zayn almost did a victory dance right then.  
He didn’t. Instead, he slung an arm around Liam and together they walked towards the parking lot. The rain had decided to stop then, so there was only a thick fog that hung around the park.  
"Shit, you’re soaked!" Liam exclaimed as Zayn shivered slightly.  
"S’alright. I’m just glad you didn’t jump." After a few minutes, Liam spoke.  
"Yeah, me too."

3.

The third call comes when Zayn is sicker than a dog and feeling utterly miserable.  
Liam and him had become easy friends, and Harry and Liam got on well too. But apparently, standing outside in the rain while trying to convince someone not to commit suicide has repercussions which come in the form of almost catching pneumonia. His mother had yelled at him for ten minutes straight until she’d been interrupted by the phone ringing. When his mum answered, it had been a tearful woman who claimed her name was Karen Payne. She had thanked her over and over again for raising such a wonderful son who saved her baby boy’s life. By the time the call was over, his mum had been near tears. She hadn’t said anything, only hustled him upstairs and into bed with a bowl of soup. But before she left, she’d given him a bone crushing hug, whispering how proud she was while her tears soak his hair.  
Zayn still felt like utter shit, and he’d hurled in the toilet about three times in the past hour. A mind numbing exhaustion gripped him tightly, but he just couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Cold radiated off of his skin, but he felt like taking all of his clothes of because he was just so damn hot. It was all worth though, because he’d saved Liam’s life.  
Both his younger sisters were at friends’ houses, and both his parents were at work. His mother had initially wanted to take a day off to take care of him, but she couldn’t. Their family wasn’t exactly poor, but they were very close to living paycheck to paycheck, and she couldn’t afford to miss a day. Zayn normally worked at a second hand CD store to help out as much as he could, but right now, he could barely move.  
Zayn let out a loud groan as he tossed and turned in bed, trying to find a comfortable position. The sound of the front door slamming shut and footsteps echoing throughout the house had him tensing up. Who could possibly be—  
"Zayn? It’s Liam." Oh. Why would Liam be here? The door to his room creaked open, and there Liam stood, holding a couple of movies and a bowl of soup.  
"What are you doing here?" Zayn rasped, letting out a throaty cough. Liam eyed him cautiously before setting the soup down on his nightstand.  
"You weren’t at school, and I figured something like this might’ve happened. Harry wanted to come, but he had an English test. He’s already failing that class, so…"  
"Wait. You ditched for me?!" Zayn was truly touched, because in the short time he’d known Liam, he found out that Liam was damn serious about his studies. Liam didn’t ditch class for just anyone. And maybe, just maybe, Zayn might’ve developed a teensy tiny crush on the puppy eyed boy. From his sweet, caring personality to his ability to look adorable and hot at the same time, Zayn felt the same way about Liam as he did Harry, which was a wee bit strange. But it was wrong. Liam was a straight as they come, and his girlfriend had just died. To make a move on him would be like taking advantage of him.  
Shaking his head slightly, Zayn listened to Liam.  
"It’s kinda my fault your sick," Liam said with a nonchalant shrug. "And besides, that’s what mates are for, yeah?"A small grin played on Zayn’s lips, but before he could say anything, he sneezed. It was so startling it almost gave him a heart attack. Liam let loose multiple giggles, and Zayn couldn’t help but laugh with him, even if it his chest ached while doing so.  
After they were less hysterical, Liam helped him downstairs to settle on the couch, buried under tons of blankets. Liam put on a movie, which just happened to be the Avengers. Then they both snuggled together, and suddenly, being sick wasn’t so bad.  
Zayn was just drifting off to sleep when an annoying ringing started.  
“‘s your phone.” Liam said, pausing the movie. Zayn groaned loudly.  
"Who the hell…" Zayn trailed off, remembering his job.  
"Shit, give me my phone!"  
"But you throat—" Zayn really didn’t have time for this.  
"Liam, give me my damn phone." Then it dawned on Liam that other people in distress have the option of calling Zayn, and he hands the phone over without further question.  
Zayn quickly cleared his throat and tried to make himself sound less sick, even though the dull ache in his head was slowly growing and he was extremely overheated.  
"Hel—" Before Zayn could even say anything, the other person spoke.  
“‘m Louis, and I’m about to commit suicide. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” A flat voice said, and Zayn was taken aback. He blinked a few times before answering.  
"Why do you want to commit suicide?" Zayn asked slowly, pulling away from the phone so Louis wouldn’t hear his brief coughing fit.  
"That’s not a reason why I shouldn’t die." Louis said, in the same oddly flat tone he’d used before.  
"That’s not an answer to my question." Zayn retorted, sniffling slightly. Louis mulled over that for a moment.  
"Fair enough. I want to die because I’ve got nothing to fucking live for." His despondent tone never faltered.  
"I know that probably sounded ungrateful, because a shitload of people would say my life is fucking perfect. I’m captain of the football team," And oh, wait. Louis. Football captain. The dots connected in Zayn’s lethargic mind as he realized he was talking to Louis Tomlinson, the boy who Harry had the most adorably annoying crush on. Coughing, Zayn focused back on Louis’s words.  
"… I’m not failing twelfth year, I have a mum and a step dad who have enough money for me and my sisters to live comfortably… and an overall decent life." Zayn wondered if this was a prank call because he was extremely lost right now. But Louis wasn’t finished yet.  
"I should be happy, but I can’t be. I should feel grateful, but I fucking can’t. I can’t fucking feel a single goddamned thing." And all the dots finally connected in Zayn’s head because there should’ve been at least some anger or sorrow behind his words, but they were still spoken in a dull monotone. Something was very wrong. A brief streak of pain flashed through his temples, but Zayn bit his lip hard and forged on.  
"Do you remember ever feeling anything?" It came out a bit croaky, and he hope Louis hasn’t noticed.  
"No." That one word should have sounded absolutely miserable. But something was terribly wrong, and Zayn desperately wanted to figure out what it was.  
"And I’m fucking sick of it. I can fake a smile, a laugh, even a tear or two. But it’s not real. And I can’t tell of people actually give two shits. I want to love someone, but I can’t do that properly because I don’t know what love feels like. I don’t know what it feels like for people to actually care." A brief pause.  
"I want to feel something, anything. I used to just want love. But now I’ll take anything. So if I kill myself, I’ll feel pain. That’s something." Zayn didn’t expect this situation to arise, and he wasn’t sure if anyone had ever been called with something like this before. It was hard to figure out a way to fight Louis’s logic.  
"And the thing is, I don’t know if anyone would give a flying fuck if I died. I don’t think they would. They don’t care. No one does." This had turned to shit really fast. But then a though struck Zayn faster than his ever present migraine.  
"Louis, listen. I promise you, no matter how shit things may seem, no matter what happens, there will always, always be someone who cares. You may not know them. But you’ll light up their world like nobody else. Ever word you say will have them on their knees, begging for more. I swear, there is always someone who cares." Zayn had honestly been thinking about Harry and Liam at the moment. But then Louis spoke.  
"Show me." His voice had changed, and it was nothing more than a whisper. It sounded so pained, so small, so tortured, so fucking broken. "Show me someone cares." And with that, the line went dead.  
"Shit." Zayn swore, fear and panic gripping his head so hard his world spun.  
"Zayn?" Oh, right. Liam was still there. Zayn shot up and his vision swam with the sudden movement.  
"Louis Tomlinson. Where does he live?" Because Liam knew everyone. The puppy eyed boy’s eyes widened.  
"He lives two houses down from Harry," He should’ve known. Harry had only told him twenty times a day, when his crush had become a bit stalker-ish.  
"Zayn, what happened?" Liam asked tentatively, but Zayn was hardly listening. Louis had said to show him someone cared. It was up to him to come through.  
Zayn stood up, and his stomach churned. Shivers wracked his body, but he felt boiling. Staggering over to the front door, a hand appeared around his waist.  
"What the hell are you doing? You’ll catch you death!" Liam had nothing but concern in his eyes. Zayn struggled in his grip.  
"Louis might fucking die if I don’t go and show him that someone cares. Please Liam, let me go!" Liam’s grip around his waist loosened slightly, and Zayn almost fell over.  
"Zayn…" Liam seemed unsure, and Zayn had no choice but to take advantage of that.  
"Liam, I came for you. I’ll always come for you. But now, someone else needs me and I have to help them. You can mother hen the shit out of me with my mum when I get back, but please, let me do this." The pleading look in his eyes had Liam sold. Sighing, he said,  
"How are you going to get there? I’ll drive y—" Zayn was already out the door, leaving Liam to stare uncomprehendingly at the spot where he had once stood.  
The heat outside was almost unbearably hot, even though it was the middle of November. A coughing fit had Zayn doubled over, clutching his stomach in pain. He stumbled over to his skateboard, his vision zoning in and out. Thanking his lucky stars that Louis’s street wasn’t too far, Zayn hopped on the board and sped off.  
He briefly so wondered if he should’ve taken Liam up on his offer to drive him, but quickly banished the though. That would take to much time, and time was something he didn’t have at the moment. Zayn made a sharp turn, almost tumbling off of his skateboard. His throbbing temples made it hard to see properly, but Zayn paid it no mind.  
Soon enough, he was in front of Harry house. Zayn counted two houses down and raced up the unfamiliar driveway. He banged on the front door, but it creaked open anyway.  
"Louis?" Zayn called out, wincing as prickles ran down his throat. A small thud coming from upstairs caught his attention, and he ran up two steps at a time.  
Louis’s house was huge. Like, at least twice the size of his own house, and Zayn could instantly tell that his parents were well off. He had to climb another flight of stairs until he found a closed door which Zayn’s instinct told him was Louis’s room.  
A sudden wave of nausea struck out of nowhere, and Zayn was tripping and stumbling and sweating and oh god there was puke in the back of his throat. He fell against the wall rather dramatically, and waited almost a minute for the sickness to pass.  
Once his stomach a stopped spinning somewhat and his head was less cloudy, Zayn inhaled deeply and quickly made his way to Louis’s door.  
"Louis?" He rasped out quietly, and when there was no response, he pushed the door open.  
The bedroom seemed perfectly normal for a teenage lad. Football posters decorating the wall, dirty clothes strewn across the floor, an abandoned backpack overflowing with textbooks and papers on the half made bed. The only thing that stood out was that the window was wide open, and a hunched up figure sat on the ledge with his legs swinging back and forth over the edge. Zayn swallowed nervously. Louis’s room was on the third floor of the house, and there was nothing but cold, hard sidewalk below. One slip could be fatal.  
"Louis." Zayn whispered, unable to speak any louder with the soreness of his throat. Louis’s head swiveled around so fast Zayb swore he heard a crack. Dry tear track painted his face, and his hands were shaking. But his expression was completely blank, and his eyes seemed to have some sort of wall that head Louis’s emotions from the world.  
"You came." It was a simple statement. Zayn took the opportunity to give the lad a quick once over. This Louis looked nothing like the cocky, self confident boy who strutted through the hallways with an obnoxious, overly loud voice without a care in the world. This boy was slouched over, without a single thing written across his face, aside from the tear tracks. His entire body trembled and Zayn really wanted to help him.  
"Please, just listen to me. Before you do anything, just hear what I have to say." Louis cocked his head to the side, and Zayn took this as a sign to continue.  
"You asked me to give you one good reason not to die. I’m going to give you one. You may not know this, or be able to feel it, but there are people who care." Louis looked like he wanted to counter that, but Zayn plowed ahead.  
"I swear on my life, there are people who care a fucking lot about you. You have to believe me. There are people who would be absolutely crushed if you died. Even if you can’t feel it, it’s there. Your parents care. Your sisters care. Your friends care." Louis scrubbed his face, clearly frustrated.  
"How am I supposed to know if you’re lying? How am I supposed to know if you’re just making shut up because it’s in your job description? How the hell—" Zayn was walking on thin ice, and he needed to get a proper word in.  
"I care, Louis." Those words came out soft and quiet, but Louis heard them nice and clear. His eyes widened almost comically, and his rant instantly ceased.  
"Even if everyone else doesn’t care, and they do care, I care, Louis. No matter what I will always care." Louis stared at him as if he were seeing the raven haired boy for the first time. He stared and stared, and Zayn was beginning to wonder if he’d said something wrong. But then, Louis painstakingly turned around, carefully swinging one leg back into the bedroom, and then the other. His eyes shone and there was something there that hadn’t been there before. Something barely discernible, but yet Zayn still saw it. A lone tear trickling down his face before landing on the floor with an audible ‘plop.’  
Zayn took a step forward just as Louis moved from the windowsill to his bed. The feathery haired boy sunk down heavily onto the bed, and Zayn tentatively sat down next to him.  
The tears started slowly, just a few dribbling down Louis’s face. But soon enough, they quickened until they turned into loud, guffawing sobs that caused him to bury his face in Zayn’s neck. It was a bit of an awkward position because Louis was a bit taller and more muscular than he was, but Zayn made it word. He didn’t that his shirt was getting soaked and that he kept letting out thick coughs that shook his whole body.  
After a few minutes, Louis’s heart wrenching sobs died down to small, pitiful whimpers and he slowly brought his head up to meet Zayn’s slightly shaky gaze.  
"I felt something." Louis mumbled, the shock evident as he mulled over what had just happened in his head.  
"What did you feel?" Zayn asked slowly, slightly awed at the fact that he’d been able to do something this huge. Louis though for a bit, biting his lip and staring at his hands.  
Suddenly, he looked Zayn straight in the eye and said,  
"Love. I felt love."

4.

The fourth call comes on the first day of the winter holidays, when they’re all at Louis’s house.  
Louis slid easily into their little group, and, as expected, Harry was ecstatic.  
When Louis had showed up at Zayn’s house the day after the call with soup and a balloon, Harry stared at him as if he were an undocumented treasure, while Liam had led him inside with a look of understanding written in his face.  
Zayn’s little adventure in going to Louis’s house had left him more sick than ever, and he nearly passed out as he tried to walk in the front door. His mother and Liam had yelled at him for 20 minutes straight, until a bewildered Harry showed up, holding cupcakes that he had made. The two kept yelling until the door bell rang again, and Zayn used this a chance to escape to his room, with Harry’s help. Liam shook his head but followed them. All Zayn head from the conversation was ‘thank you’ and ‘my beautiful boy.’ A small smile graced his lips as he shuffled into his bedroom.  
Louis, Harry, and Liam all helped in nursing Zayn back to health, and Louis’s emotions returned. Him and Harry got on extremely well, much to Harry’s joy, and Zayn really didn’t understand the pangs of jealousy that shot through him when he saw them cuddling on his couch. Last time he checked, he had liked Liam. And before that, Harry. But Zayn seemed to have this strange, mutual love for the three of them, which was something he honestly didn’t understand.  
But Zayn had pushed those strange feelings to the back of his mind as he was back up with a shitload of schoolwork that he’d missed while he was sick. Exams came and went, and soon enough, he found himself in Louis’s living room with Liam and Harry on the first day of the winter holidays.  
They were all sprawled over each other, watching The Muppets. Louis had his back against on end of the couch and one of his feet in Liam’s lap. The other foot was hanging off. Harry sat in the middle with his legs tangled with Louis’s, and Zayn was spread out on top of the three of them. Aimless banter was flung back and forth, along with several pieces of popcorn and crisps. Zayn had been in the middle of trying to avoid Louis shoving popcorn up his nose when his phone started ringing from the coffee table. Sighing, he assumed it was his sister asking for a ride home until he realized both his little sisters were already at home and ‘shit.’ He tried to grab his phone but both of his arms were pinned under Louis’s legs. Wriggling and squirming, he successfully got his arms free, pulling himself and the other lads off the couch in the process. They were all tangled together in a giant mass of limbs and “Harry do not put your foot there.’ Zayn yanked himself out of the pile of wrestling bodies just in time to answer his phone on the last ring.  
Shushing the grumbling, swearing mass of HarryLiamLouis behind him, Zayn spoke to the eerily silent line.  
"Hello?" He asked cautiously. His strained ears picked up a small sniffle. Zayn tried again.  
"Hello?" This time he got a response.  
"Hi." Okay then.  
"What’s your name?" He inquired softly.  
"My name’s Niall," There was a clear Irish brogue in his few words, but that was all Zayn could tell.  
"Hello Niall. I’m Zayn." There was a small awkward silence which left Zayn wondering if he was doing something wrong. He glanced around to see Liam, Louis, and Harry staring at him with wide, apprehensive eyes. Whenever Zayn got a distress call, they all seemed to be slightly awed of him. This was Louis’s first time actually watching him receive a call, and he paid rapt attention to Zayn’s every move.  
"Niall? You still there?" The Irish boy hadn’t spoken unless Zayn had asked him something, which left Zayn rather confused.  
"Have you ever felt that… that whatever you do, there’s always someone who does it better?" Niall’s voice sounded a bit raspy, like he’d just finished crying.  
"Yeah… I think I have." Zayn replied, thinking about how countless teachers had always brushed him off in favor of someone with lighter skin and less Pakistaniness. Niall took a deep, shudders breath.  
"I… God, I try so damn hard. At every single thing I fucking do. Nothing is even fun anymore. I just do it, hoping that someone, anyone will say ‘aren’t you Niall Horan?’ instead of ‘aren’t you Greg Horan’s brother?’" So his last name was Horan. Hmm… Zayn thought hard, wracking his brain for any sort of memory of a Niall Horan. Being a bit of a loner at school taught Zayn to watch and listen. He noticed the smallest, most insignificant things which always seemed to come in handy later. Then it struck him. Niall Horan. Member of the school football team. Known for his contagious laughter, dirty mouth, Irishness, and his 100 mega watt smile that shined so bright it gave the sun a run for its money. Niall’s sniffly, shaky voice brought him out of his thoughts.  
"I play football, but I’m not as good as Greg. I study as much as I can, but I’m not as good as Greg. I try to be polite with me mam’s friends, but I’m not a good as Greg. I try to the stupidest thing, just so I can be the smallest bit better than me brother, but I can’t. I’ve tried every fucking thing under the moon and I’m still not as good as Greg!" Niall’s voice raised slightly and shook a bit more. A small, choked sob crackled through the phone, but Zayn had a feeling the other lad had more to say.  
"I’ll never ever be as good as Greg is. Me parents love him more, the people at school, my relatives, even my fucking friends love him more than they love me. And I know that even if I wait another six months and head of to uni, I’ll always be pushed aside because I’m never going to amount anything nearly as amazing as Greg. If I end it all now, I won’t have to go through shit later. I just want someone to think of me without being labeled as the failed second child." Niall finished with a small whimper. If circumstances were different, Zayn would laughed at the Irish boy’s ability to swear and sound so vulnerable at the same time. But Niall wanted to commit suicide, so no laughing now.  
"All this time, you’ve been telling me how you don’t think you’ll ever be as good as your brother because you think he does everything better than you. But you keep saying you’ll never be like Greg. Well, why don’t you try being Niall?" Zayn held his breath, hoping that his point had gotten across properly.  
"What?" Niall seemed genuinely confused, sniffling and probably wiping away tears.  
"You’re trying to be like Greg. But the thing is, you’re not him. You’re Niall. Niall is a completely different person than Greg. I’d like to know more about him."  
"I don’t—" Zayn cut him off.  
"Tell me about Niall. Not Greg Horan’s brother. I want to hear what Niall is like, if you don’t mind." Niall though for a long time, and Zayn was worried he’d said something wrong. That’s why Niall’s voice startled him slightly.  
"You want to hear about…. me?" The incredulous tone had Zayn wondering how often Niall was asked that question.  
"If that’s alright with you."  
"Well… um…" The Irish lad was at a loss for words at first, until he realized that someone actually wanted to know more about him, and not his brother.  
"I… um… I like to play football?" It came out as more of a question than anything else.  
"Really? Or does Greg play football?" Niall seemed a bit stunned at this.  
"I-I… alright, fine. Greg plays football, and he’s bloody brilliant at it. I like to play, but I don’t like to compete. Because then someone always ends up sad, or upset. I don’t like it when people are upset." And that was possibly one of the most adorable statements Zayn had ever heard.  
"You see? That’s something that you like. You like kicking around a football while Greg likes to play against people. But you care about other people’s feelings too much to do that. That’s something Niall does, not Greg. Tell me more." His enthusiasm seemed real enough, and it kind of gave Niall the small confidence boost he needed to keep going.  
"I play guitar, and I love it more than anything else. And I like to sing, but I’m not very good—"  
"I highly doubt that." Zayn butt in, and he could almost hear the other boy blush. This left him massively satisfied.  
"…and I love Nando’s. It’s probably my favorite place in the whole world. I actually love food in general." The more Niall spoke, the more Zayn fell in love with him. This was strange because what the hell happened to Harry, Liam, and Louis? But Niall was so earnest and bubbly and enthusiastic once taken out of his brother’s shadow. And he could tell all of this by talking to him on the phone.  
"You know what? I think I like Niall much, much better than I like Greg’s brother. You’ve a brilliant personality, and I think you should stop trying to act like someone you’re not. Try being yourself, and if people don’t like you for that, they’re missing out big time." That all sounded really cliche and cheesy, but Zayn though it was the right thing to say. Niall was silent for a while, and the only thing that told Zayn he was still there was his gentle, steady breathing.  
"Yeah." Niall inhaled deeply.  
"Yeah," he started again, stronger this time. "I think you’re right. The world should like me for me, and if they don’t…"  
"Fuck them." Zayn piped up helpfully, and Niall actually laughed. It was a truly beautiful sound, and a relieved smile broke out on Zayn’s face.  
"Yeah, fuck them. I’ll show them all." Zayn chuckled, the familiar tingling fireworks of euphoria bursting in his chest as he realized he’d done it again.  
"I don’t doubt it. You’ll do fantastic things in life, Niall." Zayn said, a bit more seriously.  
"But you’ve never met me." Niall replied, obviously attempting to cover up his bashfulness. But then he went on.  
"But I’d like to meet you, Zayn."  
"Listen, I’m not really sure I—"  
"Bullshit." Niall declared, and his entire demeanor had changed completely from the insecure, tearful boy who’d first called him.  
"How ‘bout Nando’s? Tomorrow for lunch?" Niall asked hopefully, and Zayn would feel absolutely horrible if he said no to that.  
"Alright. But how would you know who I am?"  
"Are you kidding? I’ve always known who you were." And with that, the line went dead, and Zayn found himself staring at the phone in his hands, wondering how the hell a distress call had ended up in a lunch date/not date with Niall Horan. And what Niall had meant when he said he’d always noticed him. Then he glanced around to see the three nervous, worried boys behind him and shook his head fondly.

A few minute later, his phone buzzed.

Thank you. :)

And then,

See you at Nando’s <3

 

5.

Winter holidays had ended and before anyone knew it, it was the middle of May and there were literally only a few weeks left before graduation.  
Zayn had received a total of seventeen distress calls over the course of the entire school year. And though he had convinced every caller out of committing suicide, four of those callers had ended up as his best mates. (Even though he sometimes wished for more.)  
He was suddenly thrown into the spinning whirlwind that is HarryLouisLiamNiall, and he enjoyed every second of it. They practically lived at each other’s house, and they were all attached at the hip. Louis and Harry were getting a bit too close to be considered friends, and Harry seemed to travel around in this happy daze, smiling at random moments and cracking even more stupid jokes.  
Zayn was happy for them, of course, but he couldn’t shake off this small feeling bubbling in his stomach that was something akin to jealousy.  
And on top of that, he swore that there was something going on between Niall and Liam, with the not so secret smiles, the longer than necessary eye contact, the more than platonic touches. It felt as if all of his friend were grouping off, leaving him in the dust. And Zayn wasn’t a selfish person, but he liked to believe that the four of them would never have even gotten this far if he hadn’t been there.  
But he’d managed to push these odd sentiments to the back of his mind and focus on his last few weeks of classes, and the fact that he’d be off to a prestigious university in London when autumn came around. Everything was going alright.

Until on night at the end of May where Zayn went to kitchen to take a phone call and didn’t come back.

All five boys had been playing FIFA in Niall’s living room with a lot more vigor than necessary. Crisps and swear words were flung back and forth across the room and at one point, Louis became frustrated enough that he tackled Niall, the two barreling straight into the wall. They engaged the a rather intense tickle fight, tumbling and rolling around in front of Zayn, Harry, and Liam, who tried to keep playing through their laughter.  
Zayn felt a buzzing coming from his pocket, and brushed it off until he realized shit, his phone was in his pocket. He quickly tossed the controller into the wrestling mass that was Louis and Niall and dug out his phone. Quiet as a mouse, he stood up and walked into the kitchen so he could actually hear the other person.  
After about fifteen minutes, Liam noticed that Zayn wasn’t there.  
"Lads? Have you seen Zayn?" He asked, looking around the room. Niall and Louis rolled to a halt at the foot of the couch, both panting and sweating from exertion. Harry paused the game.  
"I swear he was just here," Louis stated, wiping his brow and standing up.  
"I thought I saw him go in the kitchen. He was holding his phone." Harry put in, running a hand through his curls. Niall stood up on shaky legs and glanced around.  
"Where the hell did he go?" He asked to no one in particular, and Harry could help but plant a kiss on his lips because god, he’d really wanted to do that for so long. Niall’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, but he soon relaxed and melted into it.  
As soon as Harry pulled away, Louis grinned.  
"So the three of us are on the same page. Liam?" And before Liam could answer, Louis lips were on his.  
"Definitely on the same page," He breathed after Louis pulled back. Niall laughed, but Harry shook his head.  
"We’re missing someone." He declared, and the other three were instantly on their feet. Zayn had changed their lives in more ways than they could’ve ever imagined, and he was the puzzle piece that connected them all together.  
"Zayn?!" Niall called out, stepping into the kitchen. It was empty, until he noticed that Zayn’s phone was on the counter.  
"He left his phone," The Irish boy informed the other, and Louis asked him to give it to him.  
"His most recent call is some unknown number and," Louis’s face paled significantly, "and 999." Harry snatched the phone from the smaller boy’s trembling hands.  
"Shit. Shit guys, that number is Grimmy." Nick Grimshaw was two years older than them, but he’d been held back twice so he was still in their year. He’d been more Harry’s friend than anything else, and Louis always had this particular disliking reserved for to older him.  
"Do you think…" Liam trailed off, and the same thoughts were running through all four boys’ heads. Liam quickly went to the front door.  
"I know I locked this when we came inside." And with that, all the boys were out the door within a matter of seconds.  
It was still spring, and they were in England, so obviously there was a light drizzle of of rain. Their feet pattered against the sidewalk towards Nick’s house, who happened to live a street down from Niall.  
Louis was the first to hear the sirens, and Niall was first to spot the flashing lights. The four skidded to a stop once they reached the house. There was already an ambulance in the driveway, it’s siren wailing loudly, slicing through the dreary night.  
The second they’d caught their breaths, a door burst open, and out came paramedics carrying a stretcher out of the house. They could just barely make out the limp figure laying lifelessly as the stretcher was lifted into the ambulance. Harry raced forward, the Louis, Liam, and Niall hot on his heels.  
The grim looks set on the paramedics’ faces weren’t very heartening, and when Liam made eye contact with one of them, they shook their head sadly. A lady came approached them, wearing a paramedic uniform.  
"I’m not exactly allowed to tell you this, but I’m afraid it’s too late for Mr. Grimshaw," The look in her eyes struck them with just how hard a paramedic’s job was.  
"There’s another lad over on the porch steps. He’s the one who rang us. The poor sod found Mr. Grimshaw hanging from his ceiling fan, and he put up quite a fight when we tried to load him on the stretcher. The fight’s drained out of him now, and I know the guilt must be eating him alive. Please, just let him know he couldn’t have done any better." And with that, the woman turned on her heel and trotted over to her coworkers.  
"Fuck," Niall swore under his breath, and he focused on the hunched over figure sitting on the porch steps of the slightly ominous house.  
"Zayn!" Louis called out, and the figure didn’t move. Slowly, the four boys walked over to where Zayn was sitting.  
The small boy had his arms wrapped around his knees with his head resting on top of them. His eyes were blank and his face was passive as he watched the lights of the ambulance fade off in the distance.  
"Oh Zee," Harry murmured, and he cautiously wrapped an arm around his shoulders. They were all shocked when Zayn jerked away from the warm gesture.  
"Don’t touch me." He hissed, and there was a harsh plea in his voice.  
"Please, just don’t touch me. I’m disgusting." The sheer amount of self loathing in those last two words was almost frightening.  
"I let him die." Zayn mumbled brokenly. "He put faith in me, and I let him die." Niall made a move to try and hug him, but Louis held him back. They needed to go at Zayn’s pace.  
"Zayn, you tried as hard as you could. You even came here after calling 999. You didn’t have to, but you did. It’s not your fault, love." Louis tried, but Zayn shook his head vigorously.  
"No. No, I should’ve tried harder. I’ve done it before, and this time I was just stupid. I should’ve—" Niall couldn’t stand hearing one of the boys he loved like this.  
"You couldn’t have done any better. You’ve saved so many lives, Zayn. You’ve got to understand that you’re an amazing person, and that you couldn’t have done anything more to help Nick." Zayn didn’t answer, but Liam could see his body shaking slightly.  
"The paramedic told us that you couldn’t have possibly die any better. The second the phone call ended, you didn’t panic or forget about him. You called 999 and then you went straight to Nick’s house without a second thought. You’re a hero, Zayn." Liam had never felt such an urge to do something before, but at that moment, he just needed Zayn to realize what an amazing person he was. But before he could add to his rant, Louis had a different idea in mind.  
"Zayn. Zayn look at me." Something in Louis’s tone had Zayn obeying. And next thing he knew, Louis lips were pressed on his and fireworks were exploding in his chest and he was still crying but he didn’t know why and wow he should really kiss Louis more often. But then he remembered Harry and he instantly pulled back. All of the boys were smiling, but Louis looked a bit hurt.  
"You didn’t like it?" He asked.  
"No, I-I d-did. I s-swear, b-but H-Harry?" Zayn stuttered, panicking. Harry smiled gently at him.  
"It actually the four of us, Zee. But we want to make it five. What do you say?" And Zayn finally, finally understood his feeling for all four boys, and apparently, they were reciprocated.  
"R-really?" He asked, still slightly nervous.  
"We all love you, Zayn." Liam put in warmly.  
"I think I love you lads too." Zayn didn’t really know what he was saying anymore, he was too busy hanging onto cloud nine. But four pairs of arms were wrapped around him, and he was suddenly engulfed in their love.  
"You may not be able to save everyone," Harry mumbled,

"But you saved us."


End file.
